To Hold Back The Tears
by Elizabeth Goode
Summary: This is a fic I wrote a while back and never posted here. It has to do with the episode, 'Talisman', and the one where Clark gets submerged in liquid Kryptonite. It's the Kent family dealing with their son facing things no teenager should have to be subje
1. Chapter 1

Title: To Hold Back The Tears

Author: Elizbeth Goode

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Smallville, etc. I make no  
money from writing fanfiction. In fact, I think I might be making negative  
money writing fanfiction. In short, Elizabeth Goode has no money, don't  
sue her.

* * *

Part I

Clark sank wearily onto the sofa in the loft. Physical exhaustion did not usually plague him due to his abilities, but this weariness was an emotional exhaustion that affected even his posture. In school, he wanted nothing more than to put his head down on his desk and sleep. Avoiding Pete and Lana was becoming a monumental chore, and his father's illness hung around his neck like a great weight. Chloe had been laying low after her bout of Kryptonite-influenced extreme invasive journalism, and Clark could not deny that he was at least slightly relieved to have one less person to actively avoid.

After superspeeding through the farm chores, his homework, and tidying his room, his mind was so cluttered with worry and guilt that he wanted to scream, but he knew that he couldn't. It would only frighten his mother, and she had enough to worry about without Clark's problems added to her own.

After the Kents had returned from their vacation, Clark had felt rejuvenated. Now, after all that had happened, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and free of tears. The nightmares that plagued him whenever he dared give in to the exhaustion were by far reason enough to avoid sleep. Even awake, the sickening fear and helplessness he had felt  
in Dr. Garner's lab occasionally washed over him, leaving him feeling cold and shaky. It had been two nights since his latest ordeal, and he had not slept, apart from accidental naps that he later regretted.

Jonathan Kent was due back from the heart specialist in Metropolis today, and Clark was determined to compose himself before greeting his father. It was proving much more difficult than he had anticipated. The slightest kindness from his mother was enough to reduce him to a five-year-old, clinging to his mother for protection and guidance. She had brought him some food, resting her hand on his shoulder for a moment as though considering saying something, then turning to leave. He had wanted to call her back, to run to her and let himself cry on her shoulder, but he knew that once he started, he would be unable to stop. His father must not know.

Martha had adamantly opposed keeping what had happened to Clark from her husband at first, but the truth of her son's concerns had convinced her to at least refrain from mentioning it immediately. If Jonathan heard that Lionel Luthor and Dr. Garner had immersed his son in liquid Kryptonite, there was no telling what he might do. With his heart weakened already, the results could be disastrous.

Clark heard the sound of a car door slamming shut, and heard his father shout, "Martha! Clark! I'm home!"

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Clark stood and made his way out of the loft to see his father.

* * *

For dinner, Martha had prepared a feast, featuring heart-healthy versions of Jonathan's favorites. It was an excellent meal, but Clark barely managed to eat a few bites before he opted instead to push the food around his plate to create the illusion of having eaten more. He tried to pay attention to the conversation, tried to smile and answer his father's questions about the running of the farm in his absence, but it was even more difficult than he had imagined.

"Did the truck give you any problems?" Jonathan asked, for the second  
time.

Clark looked up startled. "What?"

"The truck, Clark. Did it run all right?"

"No problems at all, Dad." Clark attempted a smile, hoping that it seemed genuine.

"Good. The place looks great, son. You did an excellent job." Jonathan peered at his son from behind his glass. The boy had already lapsed back into his own thoughts. He doubted that Clark had even heard him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Martha reach under the table and squeeze Clark's knee affectionately. At the touch, Clark blinked, sitting up straighter.

"So, Dad. How was Metropolis? Did you have time to catch a Sharks game?" He grinned broadly.

Something about Clark's grin rang false with Jonathan, making his stomach feel slightly queasy. "No, it's the off-season. Besides, what fun would it be to watch a game alone? I'd need somebody with me to enjoy it." He smiled at his son. "You and me will go to at least one of the games this season. I talked to Pete's dad about it last week, and they're thinking about joining us."

Clark nodded, somewhat mechanically. Jonathan glanced at Martha and was surprised to notice that she seemed nervous.

"The doc thinks I'm making improvements. It's good news."

Martha smiled and nodded, but her nervousness didn't seem to fade.

Perplexed, Jonathan asked, "Is anything wrong? Did something happen while I was gone?"

He watched as Clark pushed his food methodically around the plate, making no reply.

Martha spoke up hastily, "Let's move into the living room for dessert. I tried to make a low-fat, low-cholesterol cake, but it didn't work out. I picked up a Jello mold from the grocery store this afternoon, and Ihaven't even taken it out of the bag! Clark, would you go to the kitchen and get the bag out of the fridge? Bring it in here with three plates, sweetheart."

"Okay." Clark took the majority of the dishes back into the kitchen and superspeeded through washing them. He gathered the plates and forks, then removed the bag. When he entered the living room, he set everything on the coffee table and pulled the dessert out of the bag.

The moment he saw it, he felt sick. The Jello mold was almost exactly the same shade of green as Kryptonite. The sight of the jiggling green dessert was more than his exhausted, traumatized mind could take, and he backed away from the coffee table, covering his face. "Mom ... "

Horrified, Martha Kent stared watched her son waver back and forth on his feet for a moment, then sank to the floor, still holding his head. Jonathan leapt to his feet, snatching up the Jello mold and running it out of the room. Seconds later, Martha heard the garbage disposal devour the entire dessert. When he returned, Martha was still frozen to her chair. Clark sat on the floor, his back pressed to the wall and his head resting on his knees.

"What just happened?" Neither Martha nor Clark replied.

"Are they making Jello out of the meteor rocks now?" Jonathan knelt beside his son. "It's gone now, son. Are you all right?" He reached out to touch Clark's shoulder and felt him flich away. He looked helplessly to his wife. "They're using the meteor rocks in Jello?"

Martha shook her head. "No, they're not. There wasn't any Kryptonite. Was there, Clark?"

"No." His voice was quiet, barely audible.

Jonathan looked from his son to his wife and asked gently but firmly, "Martha, tell me what happened while I was in Metropolis."

She hesitated, and Jonathan asked again, "I need to know, Martha. Something happened to make my son react to green Jello like that. What was it?"

Clark raised his head, his blue eyes wide with fear. "No, Mom! You can't …"

Impatiently, Jonathan Kent interrupted. "Yes, she can. Martha?"

"Jonathan, you have to promise not to do anything dangerous. We weren't going to tell you right away because Clark was afraid you might get hurt."

Gripping his son's hand tightly, Jonathan scooted closer to Clark. "I wouldn't leave him like this. No matter how bad it is, I'm not leaving him, even to storm the gates of the Luthor estate, if, as I suspect it will, it becomes necessary."

Convinced that Jonathan would not try anything, at least not immediately, Martha told him all that she knew. "Lex was undergoing treatment with Dr. Garner at Summerholt to try to get his memories back. Clark was concerned and tried to stop him. He even appealed to Lionel to stop Lex, but ... "

Jonathan did his best to remain calm. "But what?"

"But two nights ago, Lex showed up at the door with Clark. He was barely dressed and he was dripping with - with liquid Kryptonite."

His grip on Clark's hand tightened even more, but he pressed his lips tightly shut to hear the rest of what Martha was saying.

"Dr. Garner immersed him in a tank full of Kryptonite. It was the treatment he'd been using on Lex to help him to remember, but of course it wouldn't harm Lex." Martha sighed heavily. "Lex saved his life."

Jonathan felt sick, as though his dinner was going to make a re-appearance at any time. His son, his brave, strong son had been deliberately hurt. Dr. Garner had harmed his son with the only substance that could cause Clark true damage. Submerged his body into it. How long had Clark been there before Lex saved him? How long had he been in pain and afraid? What had been done to him? Anger burned brightly in the father's eyes – anger at Lex for getting Clark involved to begin with, anger at Dr. Garner for what he did to Clark, anger at Martha for attempting to keep it from him, and anger at Clark for taking on the burdens of the world yet again. Most of his anger, however, was directed at himself. What kind of father was he that he was so pitifully unable to protect his son?


	2. Chapter 2

Title: To Hold Back The Tears

Author: Elizbeth Goode

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Smallville, etc. I make no  
money from writing fanfiction. In fact, I think I might be making negative  
money writing fanfiction. In short, Elizabeth Goode has no money, don't  
sue her.

* * *

Part II

Clark wasn't sure which was worse; the sick, shaky feeling that had yet to fade entirely, or the embarrassment at his reaction to a simple dessert item. His mind understood that no Kryptonite was present, but his heart still pounded in his chest at the memories the harmless green Jello had evoked. His mother still looked slightly shocked, but his father seemed angry. Childishly, he hoped the anger was not directed at him.

Martha quickly shook off her temporary immobility and moved to her son's side. "Clark, sweetheart. Are you all right? Can you stand up?"

He nodded slightly.

"Then let's get you up to the couch, okay? You'll be more comfortable."

Knowing and understanding that the nausea and weakness he felt were entirely psychosomatic were two very different things. He knew that he felt ill because of his own mind, not because there was any Kryptonite in the vicinity. But, that did not change the fact that he still felt ill. The embarrassment of his predicament finally dictated that he at least attempt to make some explanation, reclaim a bit of his dignity.

"I - I guess I kind of overreacted, huh?" He shook his head and stood shakily.

Jonathan and Martha exchanged glances, but also stood. Martha reached up to push strands of dark hair away from Clark's forehead. Jonathan took his son's arm supportively and together, they led him to the couch to sit down.

"Clark, you didn't overreact. You had a terrible experience, son."

Clark tried to pull his arm away, but Jonathan tightened his grip. "Clark, you're not going to deal with this on your own. I'm your father, and I need to know what happened to you at Summerholt."

Realizing that the only way he was going to be able to avoid talking about it would be to use his abilities to make an escape, Clark sighed resignedly.

"I was worried about Lex. He was going to Dr. Garner for an experimental treatment to get his lost memories back. I – I went to his father because I didn't know what else to do. Lionel used Lex as bait to get me to Dr. Garner for research. The room was so full of Kryptonite I – I couldn't –"

The young man gasped, unable to continue as the memory of the pain and fear he had experienced assailed him. He felt his mother's gentle hand stroking his back, heard his father swear, cursing Lionel Luthor and Dr. Garner.

"He – he put me in the tank. It was all around me. Everything hurt." He shuddered at the remembered pain. "I was dying. It hurt so much … I knew I was going to die, and I didn't want to never see you and Mom again …" His voice broke. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Jonathan shook his head, taking his son's face in his hands firmly. "I don't know what you think you need to be sorry for, but I don't want to hear that from you again. You shouldn't have gone to Summerholt, even to help a friend, but I'm not angry that you did it. It's part of who you are, Clark. You are a compassionate young man who willingly risks his life for those he loves. I'm proud of you, and it worries me that you're afraid to confide in me. Do you think that I love you less when you do something I don't approve of?"

Clark shook his head. "No, it's not that. I just …"

"Just what?"

Martha burst out, unable to remain silent any longer. "He didn't want to worry you, Jonathan! Because of your heart!"

Clark's eyes widened, and his stomach felt as though a bird was flapping around inside of him.

"Is that true, son?" Jonathan asked quietly.

The smallest of nods let him know that it was, in fact, true.

"She was nice."

Jonathan's frowned. "Who? Who was nice?"

His son's voice was so soft it was barely audible. "My mother. Her name was Lara, and she was nice. She wasn't like Jor-el. I – It's my fault for listening to Jor-el. If I hadn't run away … I didn't want you to worry about – about me seeing her the way you do about him. I was afraid your heart –"

Clark could not finish because he found himself enveloped in his father's strong arms. At that moment, it did not matter that Clark could have lifted the house from its very foundations. He had never needed his father's strength the way he did now.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: To Hold Back The Tears

Author: Elizbeth Goode

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Smallville, etc. I make no  
money from writing fanfiction. In fact, I think I might be making negative  
money writing fanfiction. In short, Elizabeth Goode has no money, don't  
sue her.

* * *

Part III

Hours later, Jonathan and Martha lay in bed. They had managed to calm and comfort their son enough for him to get some sleep, but rest did not come easily to the worried parents. Martha rested her head comfortably against her husband's arm.

"I'm too worried to sleep, Jonathan. I don't like that he's had so many horrible things happen to him, and we have to just take his word for it that he's all right. What if exposure to the meteor rocks is for him like exposure to radiation is for us? What if he's been harmed in ways we have no way of detecting?"

Jonathan nodded his agreement. "We've both seen how his body reacted to one small piece of the stuff - I can't imagine the pain he must have been in."

"When Lex brought him here, he was barely coherent. Lex wanted to take him to a hospital, but Clark managed to insist upon coming home. Lex wasn't too hard to convince this time, considering his own role in the whole thing. He took it hard. I think he was really scared to see Clark like that." Tears glimmered in her eyes. "He was crying, Jonathan."

"Who, Lex?"

She shook her head. "No, Clark. He was crying in front of Lex, and he was too upset to notice or care. He still had some of the liquid Kryptonite in his hair. Lex had turned on the sprinkler system in the lab, and that got most of it, but you know how little it takes. After I convinced Lex that we'd be all right, I got him upstairs - don't ask me how, he could hardly stand. He got in the shower and turned it on as hot as it would go. I waited for a few minutes, until he told me he'd gotten it all and that he would be all right. He was in there for forty minutes. When he came out,  
he seemed all right. He apologized about a million times, and he begged me not to tell you. I never agreed to that, I only told him that I wouldn't say anything right away. He told me he didn't want to upset you, and that he knew that if I brought it up, he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears."

Jonathan sat up in bed. "He shouldn't have to hold them back! He was tortured, plain and simple. Luthor and his pet mad scientist have gone too far. They tortured a kid - my kid! I'm not letting this one go, Martha. I've got to do something!"

"And then, what? You'll be killed or thrown in jail and Clark is left  
without a father? He needs you, Jon. Desperately, right now. He needs both of his parents to be thinking clearly, to be there for him - "

Martha was interrupted by a cry from down the hall in Clark's room.

"No! No, you can't! You don't understand ... I'll die! No! Somebody help me! Help me! Mom! Dad, please help me ... " By the time his words faded to a sob, the Kents were at his bedside. In his sleep, Clark responded to his mother's gentle touch as she stroked the dark hair away from his forehead. His handsome face was still frozen in a grimace of pain, but he instinctively curled toward her. "Hurts ... it hurts, Mom."

Her heart breaking at her son's distress, Martha tried unsuccesssfully to wake him. Helplessly, she looked to her husband. "He won't wake up. What if that awful stuff he was in has done something to him?"

Jonathan reached out to shake his shoulder. "Clark! Clark, you need to wake up, son!"

His eyes remained closed, but he whimpered as if in pain. Slowly, too slowly for the concerned parents, he began to come around. One blue eye opened, then the other.

"What happened? Did I wake you?"

Martha brushed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Sweetheart, you were dreaming again. We heard you and came in to wake you up."

He rolled over, fumbling groggily for the alarm clock. Martha stopped him. "You're not going to school. Forget the clock."

Clark couldn't find it in him to protest. He was too exhausted to even contemplate dealing with Pete, Lana, and Chloe. He gave his mother a wobbly, grateful smile before once again drifting off to sleep.

The parents stayed, watching their son sleep for a long while. If his dreams threatened his rest again, they would be there.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: To Hold Back The Tears  
Author: Elizbeth Goode  
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Smallville, etc. I make no  
money from writing fanfiction. In fact, I think I might be making negative  
money writing fanfiction. In short, Elizabeth Goode has no money, don't  
sue her.

* * *

Part IV

The next morning, Clark awakened feeling much better and more rested than he had since the incident at Summerholt. It was well after nine o'clock, and the smell of coffee and pancakes wafted up from the kitchen. He quickly showered and dressed, then made his way downstairs. His father was reading the newspaper at table, sipping at his coffee. His mother was finishing a batch of pancakes at the stove. Quietly, he slipped into his chair at the table, still feeling slightly embarrassed over the events of the previous night.

Jonathan set down the newspaper and smiled at his son. "Morning, Clark. Are you hungry?"

He nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Since you're not going to school today, what do you say you and I get the bare minimum of the farm chores done and then head back to the house for a Kent family movie marathon? Your mother and I want you to rest and take some time to unwind."

Martha set a heaping plate of pancakes in front of Clark, then sat down to finish her coffee. "How does that sound, sweetheart?"

Still feeling embarrassed, he managed to mumble, "Sounds good." He could feel his face begin to flush, knowing that they were watching him.

"You don't have to be ashamed of last night, son. Everyone has a bad dream from time to time. You just have more than others because of the things that happen to you." Jonathan set the newspaper down. "Your mother and I were talking last night, and we're worried about you - the way some of the things you've been through might have affected your health. If you were  
anyone else and we were anyone else's parents, we would have had you in the emergency room several times over. As it is, we can't do that. So, we need you to tell us if anything, and I mean ANYTHING feels wrong."

"Why?" Clark's voice came out much sharper than he had intended, but he did not stop. "What could you possibly do? I mean, you're not doctors - especially not alien doctors!"

"We know that, Clark. There are things that are beyond our control, beyond anyone's control. That said, I've dug Kryptonite out of you before and I'll do it again, as often as I need to." Jonathan patted his shoulder. "Now, eat your breakfast so we can get going on those chores."

Clark did as he was told, feeling a little bit better after some food and the genuine display of concern from his parents. After the chores had been completed, the Kents settled in the living room with some movies, a bowl of popcorn, and some colas. Little by little, the loving concern of his parents chipped away at his worries and fears, drawing him back from the edge, assuring him that there was no need to hold back the tears. As the day wore on, the family strengthened and reaffirmed their bond through the  
simple acts of enjoying each other's company. They did not know, could not know, that in a few short days, one of their worst fears would be realized.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: To Hold Back The Tears

Author: Elizbeth Goode

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Smallville, etc. I make no  
money from writing fanfiction. In fact, I think I might be making negative  
money writing fanfiction. In short, Elizabeth Goode has no money, don't  
sue her.

* * *

Part V

Clark insisted that he was up to returning to school the next day. It didn't seem nearly as difficult as it had the week before to dodge his friends. Pete was strangely distant, and Chloe's interest in Clark and his secrets had at least temporarily been replaced by trying to dig for the root of Pete's odd behavior. Lana was preoccupied with her quest to study in Paris. At lunch time, Clark managed to slip away to the Torch office to catch up on some of his missed schoolwork. When Chloe came back before he  
had finished, she barely noticed that he was there at all. If he had felt like himself, he might have been offended. As it was, he was grateful that she wasn't probing him for information.

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly, and by the time school was out for the day, Clark had managed to complete most of his missed assignments during his study hall and between classes. The familiar routine of school was somewhat reassuring, despite the double homework load.

After school, Clark helped his father with the farm chores, had dinner with his parents, and settled on the living room couch to do his homework for the evening. He had been taking a study break out in the barn when the Professor had shown up to warn him that a Kowatche graduate student had seized control of an artifact, something called the Star Blade. Having learned his lesson many times over about leaving his parents out of the  
loop, he went straight to them to ask their advice.

To his surprise, his father did not forbid him to involve himself.  
Instead, Jonathan Kent had been adamant that Clark was the only one who could stop Jeremiah from causing considerable harm with the Star Blade. With his parents' blessing, Clark set out to stop Jeremiah.

* * *

He had known that he was in trouble when the Kryptonite failed to affect the young Kowatche man. He was fighting someone as strong as he was, with all of his abilities. It actually hurt when Jeremiah punched him. When Jeremiah buried the blade in his abdomen, searing agony raced through Clark's veins like fire. He felt his legs give out beneath him and fell to the ground. Then, he was alone, blood welling from the wound and pooling on the ground beside him.

Slowly, he managed to haul his pain-weakened body into the house. He called out to his parents for help, but no one was home. The blackness that had been lurking in the back of his mind trying to take over since the blade had been yanked from his body finally asserted itself. Clark fell to the floor unconscious and lay unmoving in the hallway.

* * *

When the Kents returned home from town, Martha called out to Clark, but it seemed that their son was not at home. That was before lights were turned on. Before they were treated to the sight of their only child unconscious and bleeding on the floor.

Kneeling beside Clark, Jonathan felt for a pulse and found it to be  
present but faint.

For the Jonathan and Martha Kent, it was their worst nightmare come true. Opening Clark's shirt, Jonathan found his son's chest covered in blood, which welled fresh from a deep, jagged wound. Fear clutched at his heart as he turned to shout to Martha to get something to stop the bleeding.

Martha heard her husband's shout, but was momentarily paralyzed in horror. When she regained her wits enough to tear her eyes away from her wounded son, she slipped, crying out when she realized that she had slipped on Clark's blood.

Leaning over Clark's nearly lifeless body, Jonathan remembered the conversation two nights ago - what could be done if Clark was badly hurt? He had extracted the green rocks from his son before, but there was no evidence this time of Kryptonite. Clark wasn't shivering or moaning the way he usually did if the meteor rocks were involved. Somehow, this was worse. At least with Kryptonite, he knew that if it was removed from the vicinity, Clark would recover quickly. Now, he lay still and pale. He looked dead. His son looked dead ... No! Clark could not die. He could not  
let his son die. With renewed determination, he placed his hands over the unresponsive chest, hoping that CPR might help Clark start to breathe again.

Suddenly, the room began to glow with a strange, golden light. I seemed to be emanating from Jonathan. He and Martha watched in shock as the ragged wound closed, the bleeding stopped. Clark did not awaken, but they could see his chest moving. At least he was breathing.

* * *

The time that lapsed between the miraculous healing and the moment when Clark actually awakened was excrutiating for the desperately worried parents. Even worse was when Clark left to stop Jeremiah only moments after regaining consciousness. Waiting for him to wake had been nerve-wracking. Waiting for him to return home after the confrontation, hoping that he would be able to return at all, was agonizing.

They barely spoke, mechanically performing the tasks of cleaning up the blood that stained the floor. It seemed to them that Clark was gone for hours, but the clock revealed that it had not yet been one. Jonathan glanced at his wife and noticed that she was still shaking.

"Martha? Are you all right?"

She shook her head. "I slipped on my son's blood in my own home - no, I don't think I'm all right."

Jonathan drew her close, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm not thinking straight, not after seeing him like that."

"I didn't mean to snap. I just -"

"I know."

There was a long pause, and then Martha asked hesitantly, "Do you think we should ... look for him? If - if Jeremiah hurt him again ..."

"We don't know where he is. It's only been an hour. We should give him more time."

"But what if he can't come home? What if he can't walk? What if he's lying in a field somewhere or out in the woods alone? Maybe you could heal him again."

Their brief conversation was halted when they heard Clark call out, "Mom? Dad?"

The Kents raced outside to meet their son, hoping against hope that he had not been wounded further. Clark stood between the barn and the house, and he looked rough. His left shirtsleeve was ripped almost entirely off, his hair was full of dirt and leaves, and when he took a step forward, he staggered slightly but did not fall.

Martha reached him first. "Clark, baby, are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No. Just a little - winded. That's not - usual, huh?" The faintest of smiles touched the corners of his mouth.

The ripped sleeve was worrying her, and she reached up to push the fabric aside, just to reassure herself that there was not another knife wound there. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw un-marred flesh, then threw her arms around her son, holding him tightly.

"Oh, Clark. We were so worried about you."

Jonathan joined his wife in hugging their son, ruffling the dark hair affectionately. "Winded? You?"

The tiny smile widened, but only a little bit. "I guess that's what happens if I fight with someone who has the same abilities as me." He winced slightly, holding his arm across his abdomen. Jonathan immediately pulled the shirt up to see if the wound had worsened after the initial healing. It had not, but neither had it improved. The scar was still red and looked as though it might be tender.

"Does it still hurt, son?"

He shook his head. "Not really. It just kind of twinges a little every now and then. I hope I don't get stabbed with Kryptonian metal again any time soon."

Martha half-sobbed, half-laughed, "Oh, God. Me too, baby. Me too."

* * *

While Clark took a shower and changed into clean clothing, Martha and Jonathan prepared a quick meal of chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese for their son. The relief the parents felt was so intense that it made them feel slightly giddy. Their son had been terriby hurt, but had been miraculously healed. Their son had fought a dangerous battle and was still alive and well. They knew that Clark would feel badly about Jeremiah, even though it was not in any way his fault, but they also knew that they would be there for him. No matter what life threw at Clark Kent, his parents would do their best to provide guidance, love, and support.

As Clark descended the stairs and made his way into the kitchen, the smell of food made his stomach rumble. He saw his parents sitting at the table waiting for him, and felt some of the weight of his worries and fears lift from his shoulders. He had nearly died. Twice, he had nearly died. Once, in the lab at Summerholt and once from the wound from the Star Blade. It felt strange to him that so much could happen in such a short time, and also that so much could happen that his friends didn't know about. Two near-death experiences since the last time he had been able to hang out with his friends. He hoped that after all he had been through, he would be able to get past it enough to be a good friend. The last thing Pete, Chloe, and Lana needed was more drama from him.

The End


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